Page 75 of Our Secret Moments

My mom tuts, shaking her head before she turns back around. “Comeon,Nor-Nor. I’ll even let you put the star on the tree this year if you hurry your ass up.”

“I’m not five anymore, mom,” she groans, flicking her hair out of her face before speeding up her walk slightly, leaving Cat behind to fall into step beside me. “I still want to do it, though,” she adds giggling, walking beside my mom.

I look down at Catherine as we step over a pile of twigs, stepping around a dent in the earth.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I ask, low enough for only us to hear. My dad is only a few steps behind us, whistling along to whatever 80’s song that stuck in his head today.

Cat looks up at me, the harsh brightness from the sunshine making her eyes glow. She’s been quiet since we got here and I’m sure it has to do with the phone call she had from her dad earlier when she locked herself in the guest room to talk to him.

“Yep,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ as she steps over a branch. “I’m already exhausted. Nora’s idea actually doesn’t seem too bad now that I think about it.”

I tut at her, shaking my head. “That sounds like a loser attitude, Cat.”

“If being a winner means having to wake up at seven in the morning to trek through the woods, I’ll be a loser any day,” she replies, sighing. I laugh with her and my dad joins in, stepping in the middle of us.

My dad’s got one of those optimistic yet cheeky smiles on his face, like he’s about to say or do something stupid. He’s wearing a huge headband around his head, pushing his hair back as sweat drips down his forehead. I have no idea what he’s been doing this whole time to get him so sweaty so easily.

“So, Cat, how come your dad couldn’t make it this year?” my dad asks, huffing.

“Dad,” I warn when I notice the small frown that etches across her mouth.

“No, it’s okay,” she assures us, dropping her gaze to the ground as we continue walking. “He’s just been busy.”

“Too busy to hang out with the Baileys?” he asks, nudging himself into her. He grins at me, hoping that I’d join in, but I don’t. Instead, I shake my head.

“Mostly because there's more physical activities involved than anyone bargains for,” I mutter.

“That’s what makes us so special, Con,” my dad replies. Cat scoffs. “You don’t mind it, do you, Catherine? You used to love going on walks with us as a kid.”

“I don’t mind it at all, Mark. It gives me something to do,” she replies, looking over at me across from my dad. “Your son over here has me working overtime trying to tame his team and writing about football is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

My dad narrows his eyes at the both of us when our gazes snag on each other. “Well, I’m sure he’ll make it up to you one way or another.” My face heats at his insinuation and he has the audacity to wink at us and walk in front of us.

What is it with my parents and winking today?

Cat looks up at me, that loopy smile that makes me weak in the knees. She’s wrapped up in a beanie, a large scarf and a huge coat as she shoves her hands deeper in her pocket, standing on her tiptoes. “Do you talk to your dad about me, Connie?”

“Of course,” I murmur, and when I think that no one is looking, I quickly press a kiss to her lips and she stumbles slightly in surprise. She glances down the trail, everyone bustling ahead before she steps into me again, kissing me back.

When we start walking beside each other again, I bump my shoulder into hers. “Is everything okay with your dad? I know you didn’t really want to talk about him, but if you need to getanything off your chest or I don’t know… need a punching bag to hit, I’m free game.”

She barks out a laugh before narrowing her eyes at me. “What do you think my dad has done to me, Connor? He’s just busy and a bit distant. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, but it’s the holidays, Cat. He should try harder to be with his daughter,” I mutter angrily. “I mean, I get why you don’t want to talk to him. He’s been a bit of a dick recently and you deserve someone who’s going to treat you better than that. Someone who isn’t going to let you down because they find other things more important. Because therearen’tany things that are more important than you. I wish–”

I stop my rambling when I realise that Catherine hasn’t responded to anything that I said or interjected. I turn and she’s not next to me. Instead, she’s a few steps behind, her mouth parted. I tilt my head at her, silently asking her what’s wrong as the anger washes through my body towards her dad.

“You really care about me, huh?” she asks, holding my gaze.

“Of course I do,” I whisper, shaking my head at the sad look in her eyes. Has that not been obvious? I hold out my hand, waiting until she steps into me, holding onto my hand. “Now let's catch up, so we can go back to the house.”

Later, when the sun has set into a deep orange along the horizon, I wander back down stairs to where the fresh smell of my mom’s famous gravy is brewing on the stove. I’ve always loved this part of Thanksgiving. The moment of momentary peace where everyone is doing their own thing before dinner.

Nora is off on the phone to Ryan in the living room. My dad is sorting out the wood for the fireplace, walking back and forth from the garage and into the living room.

When I walk back into the kitchen, my mom and Cat are laughing over something, passing each other as Cat cuts up vegetables on the counter. Everything about it just being my mom and Cat in here feels so right. So special. Like it was just meant to be. She fits in so perfectly here with my family. With me.

She’s wearing the most gorgeous green dress I’ve ever seen in my life. It cuts off at her thighs, flowing out, the corset hugging her curves nicely, shaping her ass. She flicks her long curls over her shoulder as I continue to watch her from the doorway, completely mesmerised.

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